Falling
by AcousticLetters
Summary: The Joker is locked-up in Arkham. Rachel is gone and Gotham rises from the ashes. Batman has not been sighted since the events of The Dark Knight. Rated M for future chapters.


**The Bat behind the Mask**

It´s around midnight when I wake up, soaked in sticky, cold sweat. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. I notice its more than just cold sweat on my forehead. My entire body feels as if someone had just poured a bucket of cold water over me. I also notice I´m breathing heavily, I feel as if I had just ran a marathon. I laugh inwardly at the irony of that thought. I couldn't run to save my life these days. I turn around and to my surprise it´s just ten after midnight. When did this happen? Bruce Wayne, billionare, sound asleep well before midnight, and waking up because of a nightmare covered in sweat. I feel less of a man every night.

I feel thirsty all of a sudden so I get out of bed to get some water.

The events of that night still haunt me, the way he smiled, the way he was always daring me to do the only thing I could never bring myself to. I hate him. And that's what brought me here. Hate.

" _WHERE IS HE?"_

" _What time is it?"_

" _WHY?"_

" _Well, depending on the hour, they might be at one point, or several…"_

" _Them?..."_

…

" _NO! NO! WHY ME?"_

" _Harvey, it´s alright… I…"_

Alfred keeps telling me that I need to go out and "pretend" to have fun. That piece of advice made sense once, when I had a reason for all this…madness. Now I just don't care.

How can I even begin to think of having fun, when the only person with whom I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life was taken away from me? She loved me, I know that. She was going to leave Dent, just before that _son of a bitch_ sent everything to hell, literally.

 _And Harvey…_

He struck me as a social inept, awkward looking, mind-numbingly boring politician the first time I saw those ridiculous banners and buttons. Rachel never spoke about him on the rare occasion we talked over the phone, hell, she barely spoke about anything over the phone. So to me Dent was just another pretty face looking to get some easy money, a social climber, a corrupt politician, a proud gothamite, and I didn't respect him.

I misjudged him.

I remember the night I "bumped" into them at that restaurant. As I expected, Rachel looked fabulous, and Harvey… well, he looked like he didn't know how he had gotten so lucky, and when he saw me… he was jealous, and afraid, but he still kept his cool.

He had no idea…the irony of it all makes me huff, I can´t even bring myself to smile after everything that happened. It feels…wrong. I remember the boredom, the numbness my brain went into when Natasha was talking, not even her strong russian accent made me pay attention to what she was saying. Then she said something interesting:

"What if Harvey Dent is the Caped Crusader?"

Harvey´s expression and words were all I needed to hear, and for a moment there I pictured him inside the suit, brawiling with thugs and terrorizing crimelords, I pictured a life where Rachel was beside me, holding my hand… and not… _this._ I was the one who felt jealousy, and Rachel saw right through me. Harvey was the man who could make things happen, not me. Not Batman.

I remember Alfred used to make fun of me by saying that I cared more about _them_ than I cared for what Dent was up to. I knew his jokes had another meaning, but I never really put any thought to it.

I won´t deny the fact that seeing them together on the news made me jealous, and to make things worse, that´s how I found out about them, she called later that evening, but I felt no desire to answer, even if I did, she really didn't have to explain a thing, she had every right in the world to be with him.

We never _labeled_ our relationship, and there were just our feelings, love. She held back, though, and nothing ever happened after that kiss. It is on nights like these, that I realize that I could have never made her happy, not the way Dent could have. He could have brought her peace, a family, a home. I could have only brought despair, fear, worries, and sadness.

He was the better man.

Then there´s Commissioner Jim Gordon. The only man I could ever consider the closest thing to a friend I ever had back then… and I made him lie for me, years of criminals brought to justice, all built over a bent truth, that Harvey Dent was murdered by no other than the vigilante known as Batman. He had to label me _public enemy,_ unleashing Gotham´s finest on me. I saw the look on his face when I told him to say it had been me, he felt powerless, angry and sad... Just like his son, who was wondering why the man who had just saved his life was running away from him.

I can still hear the little boy´s screams.

" _Batman? Batman! Why is he running, Dad?_ "

"… _we'll hunt him, because he can take it."_

"… _A Dark Knight."_

He of course never intended to capture me, and all those nights on the rooftop, he always said:

"I won't be around forever, you know? I have to tell the people the truth! ", he seemed older than he was, his hair was greying on some parts, as well as his moustache. All those years hunting crime lords, breaking up mobs, and bringing back to prison all those escaped convicts. It was taking its toll.

"I trust you. We did the right thing." I told him coolly.

He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, looking to the already rusting signal. I was already gone.

As Bruce Wayne I could always get away with lies, hollow words, and fake smiles. As _Batman_ I answered to no-one, said only what was necessary, and always told the truth, to an extent, on a need-to-know basis.

In a way, I _was_ the night, only showing some things, holding back others. Is that lying? To some people it may be, but sometimes truth is just too much to take in.

It´s on nights like these, when I wonder if I did the right thing, _hanging the cape_ , as Alfred calls it.

Sure, after that maniac was put into solitary confinement at Arkham, crime in Gotham began to decrease, to a certain extent. Those two years after _Rachel_ (even thinking her name hurts…), after…that night were pain, just that, pain and sadness, anger, and animal instincts taking over every time I punched some criminal in the face, but it still felt like I was me, I never crossed the line, I took it all on them, but knew the fault was all mine, even if I let Gordon believe we were sharing it, it was all on me. I kept watching over Gotham, because that's all I had left, Batman.

I remember Rachel (not again) saying _he_ was my true self, and Bruce Wayne was just a mask, at the time I shrugged off the thought, because I didn't think it to be true. Now I know she was right. Batman kept me sane, focused, gave me a sense of purpose, and the best of it all was I didn't have to _think,_ I had almost no nightmares back then, I was so exhausted after chasing up on new criminals, examining crime scenes before Gordon´s cops were even notified (that even brought a little joy to my nights, knowing some of them outright hated me for so many reasons), that I barely remembered dreaming the night before.

I even had my fair share of super criminals: An infamous old fashioned gangster, Oswald Cobblepot that ran by the name of "The penguin", his looks might have been funny, but he was far from that. The night I finally got my hands on him and brought him to Gordon´s precinct, I found him throwing human limbs to his dogs, oddly enough, I never found any trace of fish or _penguins_ in his warehouses, his home, or his sorry excuse for a hideout; which led me to think he chose the name mirroring what people think of penguins: slow, stupid and not very useful, until you watch them swim. He must have been intimidating to all his victims.

There was some non-conclusive evidence that he practiced cannibalism, he never admitted it, and hard as I tried, never found solid proof of that, though I _know_ he did it. That night his breath smelled of something I couldn't place, it hit me later after I delivered him to Gordon; somehow, he found his way to Arkham, where he and some of his henchmen were still running an illegal drug business, not only on Gotham, but all America and some countries in Europe.

And then there was this… maniac genius, who gave me quite some trouble, because well, he was _smart_. He used to kidnap people at random (or so it seemed at first) and put them in perilous predicaments, where they had to solve a puzzle, a riddle or some other kind of crazy game to stay alive and walk out of it. His killing ratio was of an astonishing and disturbing 90%, to this day GPD has 54 kidnappings accounted for, from the 6 survivors 4 had to be sent to Arkham to receive appropriate treatment, the other two killed themselves.

On his 61th victim I got the hang of some patterns that led me to an abandoned lighthouse far on the east side of town, the victim, a 17 year old girl, was tied up, her hands and feet were firmly knit together. The night I rescued the girl, _Nygma_ was waiting for me, I never thought he would put up much fight on a fist fight, I found out he was incredibly agile; unlike the Joker he knew how to deliver a quick punch. He was all over the place. He was really fast, but again, predictable after a few mintues, he started to make the same movements after a while, so I knocked him out before he could even raise his fist towards my face. It felt good.

He killed himself a year ago, in solitary confinement; Gordon told me forensic results were positive that he had just decided to stop breathing. It bothers me not why he did it, but it adds up to his name, and it remains a mystery to this day why he killed himself.

I feel excitement, just remembering those two. And that excitement tells me something s wrong with me.

Without noticing I´m out in the hallway, wandering without course, I find myself in front of the main flight of stairs. I go up to the cellar, and out to the terrace. It's nearly a full moon tonight and the view of the city is, simply put, beautiful.

I know for a fact people think of the Batman as some perfect detective, with little emotion, god-like incorruptibility, and while some of those are true, if there is something I do all the time is _feel._ Alfred knows this, he knows me better than anyone, honestly I see him as the closest thing to a father I will ever have, even though sometimes he acts more like a big (and very old, though his mind is as young as mine) brother, he always knows what to say, what to do to make me see things just the way they are.

If it were not for him I would´ve given up when the Joker had the city under siege, I didn´t want to have anything to do with Batman anymore, and yet, he spoke to me, not as if I were made of glass and would break at the slightest touch of truth. He spoke out of his heart, to the point, and he was right, I behaved likea son of a bitch with all those mercenaries, thugs, and murderers, I pushed and then, shoved my foot over their throats, broke their bones, dropped them from questionable heights (ah, Maroni, Flass…the good days), I made them all squeal and quiver in fear, I remember some of them even wetting their pants. But with _him_ , it was a different story, he was a game changer, I wanted to _kill_ the Joker, make him pay. Turns out, it all backfired on me. Didn't I see this coming? No. And Alfred saw right through me, he knew I was desperate, that I needed to hang on to something, he reminded me my job was not done.

 _I burned the entire forest._

But now? What do I do? Where do I go from here? Not even the cold breeze calms me down, and I notice I'm breathing hard and fast. I´m still angry.

I have been angry for so many reasons, for so much time, that I don't even remember feeling at peace. What surprises me most is I realize why I'm angry, and with whom.

Me.

I notice a little hummingbird, laying in the grass, twitching, agonizing, two others stand there, moving their heads, trying to understand what is happening to the other. The bird dies with one last sad note. The other two hummingbirds fly away immediately.

The bird moves one more time, looks like he had one last breath. And sure enough, he sings some notes, barely audible. And then stops breathing.

I could´ve… - no. I _should have_ known she was not where he said she´d be. I don´t feel guilt for wishing Dent would´ve died that day, not then, not now. I did my best to save both, I failed. The Joker knew I would, he got to me, he knew I didn´t care about Dent as much as I did for her. But I was so angry I wasn´t thinking clearly, I just wanted to beat that damned clown to a bloody pulp, get Rachel, and then make him pay the price. If I had handled the situation objectively, I´m sure I would´ve found a way to save them both, a way in which Gordon would´ve arrived in time. I don´t blame him, he never gave up, on the city, on me, even with Harvey pointing at his son with the gun, he was a true patriot.

I was the one who failed. The one thing I thought I´d never do was what brought Rachel´s demise: _feelings._ Too much anger made me be what I swore I´d never be: _jury, judge and executioner_ , I wasn't supposed to make him pay, Batman was there only to do all the things the police couldn't, to help them make their job, inspire them to be the best they could be, to inspire Gotham´s citizens to stand up to the bad, the mean, not… this… mere vendetta, I was only thinking about me, and how much I loved Rachel, how much it would hurt to lose her (I had no idea). I wasn´t a symbol, just a man in a mask, trying to save the only one he ever loved. (Ra´s words echo in my mind…)

Anger doesn't scare me, I embrace it, it fuels my actions, or at least it did, what has being troubling me is the fact that I´m angry at myself, because I _regret._ I´m not familiar with the emotion of wishing I did something in a different way. I feel like I´m dragging a huge stone behind me and every time I turn around to see what it looks like and cut the rope to get rid of it, the stone disappears.

"I knew you´d be up here, Master Bruce."

It still amazes me how good is Alfred´s hearing. Maybe I deem him older than he is…

"As far as I can go without getting out of the house", I do not look at him, he knows why I´m here.

"That bad?"

A quick glance, a nod, and he knows.

"Master Wayne, I-", I cut him off with a wave of my hand. He has heard this a hundred times, I don't want to bore him, as much as I am bored of myself right now.

"Not tonight, Alfred".

"Alright, Master Wayne", he stands there for a few seconds, waiting for me to cave in, but I resist the urge to splutter everything out, I control myself just a little bit to tell him before he turns around.

"What day is it?"

His face tells me exactly what I expected, he´s taken aback, but quickly composes his face and says quietly, "It´s Tuesday, April the twentieth…", he looks at me, pondering something in his head, "Why do you ask?"

"I´m just trying to have a normal conversation, aren't things like this conversational starters anymore?" I say, arching an eyebrow and smiling at him for the first time in months.

I make a mental note; his birthday is in two weeks.

"Well honestly sir, would you even call this a conversation? I think if I didn´t work for you, I´d just say ´excuse me, I think I saw someone´ and then leave the room with the first lady I saw". He looks me straight in the eyes, his lower lip twitching a bit.

That's what I love about Alfred, his jokes are so bad, they´re good. And part of this is the sixth sense he has to know when to tell them, and not to laugh.

"Yeah, maybe you´re right, but we´re stuck with each other, aren´t we?" I say to him, half joking, half telling the truth.

"Would you like to go inside, or shall I bring actual alcoholic beverages up here?"

"You know I don't drink"

"I do, and I do."

"Be my guest".

"Very well, sir".

He turns around, shaking his head, slowly; he must think the same thing about my jokes. But as I said, we´re stuck with each other. Not a bad thing. Not at all…

It´s nearly 3 a.m., Alfred is sitting on a rickety wooden chair, very old and dusty, just like I thought him to be when I was a kid. His head is slightly tilted to his left, and his mouth is a bit open. His left arm is hanging over a glass of scotch, and the other one rests placidly on his belly. I never knew he snored.

I smile to myself, and turn my head away from him, somehow I feel like I´m intruding into something private.

I lean on the balustrade, holding my glass (scotch, just to make Alfred feel comfortable. Haven't touched it all night). Something gets my attention, far in the city, I see it.

For the first time in five years, I see Gotham needs Batman, one more time…

Then just like some cheap Christmas lights, the lights of the buildings and streets of Gotham flash a couple of times and then, darkness. The bat is still up there.

Gordon is risking it, I know he knows I decided to lay low, so he wouldn't do this to get my attention if it wasn't important.

"Alfred." I say quietly.

 _Nothing._

"Alfred", this time I gently rub his arm. He wakes up, as if there was a button to turn him on sarcastic butler, no slight jump, no blurred voice, if anything, he rubs his eyes for a second.

"What is it?", he moans. Ah, there´s the catch. "-Master Wayne", he adds quickly.

"I´m going out". I get inside and leave for the cave. I can almost see the disappointment in his face.

It stings, but the growing sensation of power I feel as I get close to the library, crushes my guilt. I hear his footsteps behind me, as fast as mine. I fly down the stairs, my robe billowing behind me, and I hear Alfred´s pace slows, but is still firm. I cross the room in what feels an eternity, and play the notes that open the gate to my former sanctuary. The piano is dusty, and the bookshelves have some spider webs, and I barely notice my footprints on the carpet as I walk. I enter and nearly gasp when I see Alfred beside me in the elevator.

"I´ve been around here more than you know, and more than I´d like" he simply states, pushes the button and the gates close.

I chuckle a bit, and he glances back at me. His face never leaves the gates of the elevator.

As a kid I never really fell in love with any girl, no crushes, no nothing, the closest thing I ever was to that was when Rachel and I played at the greenhouses. But If I had to say what I'm feeling right now is that. My stomach is full of butterflies.

We arrive at the cave, I open the gates, and exit the elevator without waiting for Alfred, he´s trying to delay this as much as humanly possible, but he already knows it won´t matter, this is the only thing that ties me to the world outside this house.

The sensors feel my presence and the small black platform rises from the water, along with the stairs, some bats flutter somewhere to my left, and the waterfall hisses loudly to my right. The cold, wet floor brings back in some sort of a flashback, the memories of my past life.

I walk to the center and as I get there, the computers and the wardrobe rise from the floor. I feel like a kid, saving his favorite part of the meal for last. I take a look at the monitors, the lights and the beeps echo through the cave, some bats squeak angrily at the lights and fly elsewhere. Then I look at it.

Just as the moon takes my breath away every time I see it in its full glory, I find myself holding my breath when I look at the suit, _"the batsuit"_ , as Alfred used to call it, just to annoy me. I know he is watching, I know he´s wishing I randomly say _"Okay I was joking, let's go back",_ but he knows I won´t do that, so he doesn't say a word. I look at him straight in the eye, his height is still level with mine, he must have been taller in his days, a sight to behold.

"I need this, Alfred", I say to him, almost begging.

"That's what scares me", he says sadly.

"What is?"

"That I know you do."

I open the plastic doors and grab the cowl.

" _Once more"_ I mutter, looking at those cold empty eyes.

I see Alfred shaking his head out from the corner of my eye.

I must stop feeling.

 **A/N: First of all, this is my first story ever here on FF, although I had published it before I decided to take it off and revise the later chapters. If this one gets enough attention and/or reviews I will keep posting more chapters. Secondly you WILL find mistakes here and there, mainly because english is not my mother tongue, and because I do not have someone to help me go through the chapters, so a Beta would be apreciated.**

 **I really do hope you like this one. the story I´ve got planned in my head seems interesting enough to keep telling it!**

 **A.L.**


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